


Sleeping Beasts

by WauryD



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Maybe - Freeform, Reincarnation, Slow Burn, if only because I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, the objective is for them to end up together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23584780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WauryD/pseuds/WauryD
Summary: Sometimes all of the Gods conspire to weave two souls together through time. Jaime and Brienne must overcome past lives to start anew in this one, but said lives won't let go that easily. Especially when the Gods aren't quite through with them.- Credit to MandyCandy for helping with the summary, and being a soundboard when I get frustrated
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 70
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know if I'm going to finish this story. I started working on this back in October 2018 and while I have a pretty good outline of the whole plot, it's far from being all written. 
> 
> So! If you wanna come along for the ride, proceed!
> 
> **  
> WARNING: Mention of drowning (in this chapter and a few times in the story)  
> WARNING: A few OCs, because of the nature of the story  
> WARNING: I don't entirely know what I'm doing and this has not been proofread or betaed :D

Waves crashed gently against the sand, in a rhythm that still never managed to feel peaceful to Brienne’s ears. Water seemed to reach out to her, incessantly, as if wanting to pull her into its depths. 

She was rational enough to know that it was just a feeling, and its origin was obvious. Hard to ignore, too, as intense as it was, but she’d become quite used to living with it, resisting its odd calling.

An insistent breeze was unraveling clouds above the Sunset Sea, just enough that the rising sun peeked occasionally between them. She always preferred visits to the shore in the morning, as the wind countered the pull she always felt; in the evening, it seemed to conspire with the waves to lure her closer.

A fellow runner was making her way in the opposite direction, and Brienne mentally braced herself for the encounter. The stranger was clearly a woman, despite the sweatshirt she wore, hiding some of her shape. As usual, her demeanour changed the instant she was close enough to recognize Brienne as another woman, and not the tall man she had probably expected from afar. A forced smile when their eyes met, and awkwardness as they passed each other.

Brienne brushed a few strands off her face with a deep sigh as she stopped to rest a few moments later. She questioned herself every time she spent time by the water, wondering if it wasn’t some form of masochism that had her return almost ritually. Sometimes she imagined a blueish, pale face in the foam, and despite the fact that he had not even disappeared on this side of the continent, it almost felt as if her visits had purpose. As if the sea would give him back if she would just ask.

She had almost not come this morning. Her bodyguard team of four had a 10-day assignment to watch over a former-actor-turned-activist, the darling of practically all media, in Casterly for a week-long conference on environmental issues. She had the day off, but the man was sweet to everyone, even in private, she had found, and there had been temptation to hang out at the restaurant where he had been having breakfast every morning for the past few days. Just to hear him laugh and watch him smile from afar. 

Very few people treated her decently, men least of all, so it was a nice change. One would have thought that those she was paid to protect would at least be civilized to her, but they tended to be the worst. Renly Rowan was a welcome outlier.

But the call of water had been stronger. Donning her running gear, she’d made her way to the beach along the Sunset Sea. Perhaps she’d take the opportunity to visit the city as well.

She wasn’t much of a tourist, but new places represented a bit of an adventure. Though people assumed her line of work would provide plenty of it, the often short contracts rarely meant anything more than hyper vigilance and the occasional idiot who thought he could take her, and subsequently biting dust. No time for sightseeing.

The news of a rockslide at the Rock had been disappointing. Ruins of a long standing castle, it was one of the region’s favourite attractions. Large boulders had sectioned off the seaside cliff near the castle’s foundations just a few days earlier, however, and the whole structure was to be kept off-limits until they could ascertain that it was stable enough for the public. 

The closest she could get was from the beach she now stood on, which wasn’t even close enough to make out the arrow slits in the walls. It was still impressive, despite having been abandoned longer than most of the remaining written history could document, weathered by the unrelenting sea. It cast an imposing presence whenever it came into view, and none of the locals could imagine a landscape without it. Yet, there had been worried talks of officials considering demolishing parts of it should it prove structurally unsound.

After all, it belonged to an era no one remembered.

Brienne turned her eyes to the water, the sun now properly obscured by lazy clouds. Repressing a shiver, she started running again, noticing a path in the bushy hill that looked over the beach. It would probably lead her back to the city, and if not, she was not averse to a bit of adventure.

She stopped a few steps away from the edge of the sand, turning to give the sea one last bitter look.  _ For now _ , she thought. It probably knew. Taking her brother from her, knowing she might never let herself admit that the water would never give him back.

Her whole body was facing the path again when her brain processed something she’d just seen. Frowning, she looked back, and for a moment nothing seemed amiss.  _ Wishful thinking _ .

But she spotted it again: something being swaddled by the waves, a short distance from the beach.  _ A body _ .

“You probably can’t help them at this point,” she said out loud, biting her lip for half a second before rushing towards it.  _ It’s only going to hurt you more. Another one you couldn’t save. _

She hesitated in front of the wet sand licked by the sea, cursing herself for her cowardice. Remembering herself, she fished out her phone and wallet from her back pocket, untangling herself from the earphones, and threw it all over the windbreaker she removed.

_ Maybe I can’t save them, but they’ll at least get to be buried at peace, _ she thought as she removed her shoes. 

The water was freezing despite the late summer, but the floating body was thankfully not far enough from the shore to warrant her to swim out to it. Painfully aware of the current grasping at her legs, she waddled her way to it, and in breathless effort turned it over.

It was a man, rather large in stature, dressed in all black. She pulled off the loose, heavy fabric that tangled around him and dragged him towards the beach, hands under his arms once the water was too shallow to carry him.

Only once were they both safely away from the waves -  _ they’re calling him back  _ \- did she look him over properly. She had expected blueish lips and perhaps even a bloated face, but no: his skin was almost golden, his blond hair strewn across his face and closed eyes. 

She put two fingers on his neck, prickled by the edge of his beard. No pulse. Yet despite the cold of the water he had been in, there was a warmth almost alive beneath his skin. 

_ Perhaps, _ she could save him. 

She started earnest chest compressions, focusing on the rhythm in her head. Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back.  _ You can’t help him if you’re a mess.  _ Tilting his head back, she first bent to check if he was now breathing. When no air warmed her cheek, she pinched his nose closed, lifting his chin, and covered his mouth with her own to try and blow some oxygen into his lungs.

And he instead gasped it out of her.

Falling back in shock, Brienne stared at the now  _ fully awake _ man sitting in front of her, who seemed almost as bewildered as she was. He didn’t cough water, and apart from the fact that he was still soaked, he looked nothing like a drowning victim.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally spoke, his voice breaking. 

“Brienne - ”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> End of the War for the Living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was heartbreaking to write, but not as heartbreaking THE STUPID FINALE. Also clearly they are to reunite, so.

Jaime left the burning of corpses to the remaining soldiers. He had done his duty, and fought the armies of the Night King until they’d fallen lifeless, once their lord had been slain. He didn’t much care how, or by whom.

He had sworn to fight, and he had. It was over now.

Widow’s Wail had fallen from his hand the moment the wights had stopped moving, and he could not bring himself to find it again. He knew its sister was lost beneath the bodies and the ashes, and the hand that should have held it would never again do so.

Images burnt into his mind brought back searing pain. He remembered her eyes, astonished of her own death, and what had followed - 

“Ser Jaime?”

Her squire called out to him, no doubt looking for her. She had called him Ser as well, when they had prepared to set out for battle. He had held that title in higher regard from her than from anyone else’s lips. He had preferred when she’d simply used his name, in their private moments, but at the time she had wanted to remind him of his honour.

And with that honour he had continued to fight, for his life and for the living, even after he saw her die. 

But it was all over now. Acrid smoke rose all around them as flesh burned, allies and enemies alike, just for peace of mind. Ashes do not rise again. 

Neither would she.

“Ser Jaime.”

“What is it, Pod?”

When nothing more came from the lad, Jaime turned to find him bruised, bloody, but still solid on his feet. She would have been proud. She loved the boy. Jaime knew that the pain on his face would be answer enough, and surely enough, tears filled Pod’s eyes as he fought to remain stoic. 

“How old are you?”

The question seemed to take the boy by surprise. “Five and ten, I think, My - Ser,” he answered haltingly. Jaime smiled sadly.

“I was the same age when I was knighted,” he explained, bending slowly to grip a discarded sword with his left hand, wincing from the pain in his ribs. “Sometimes,” he reflected, “I think it ruined me. What do you think?”

Podrick looked at him with a frown, unable to answer. 

“I know,” Jaime continued. “She would not have liked me to say that. I think she believed in my honour more than any living creature ever did.” He looked at the squire, who had just survived a war with the Dead. He knew that if  _ she _ had died, the fact that any of them remained standing was sheer luck. 

Yet, he felt the lad still deserved his due. She would have done it herself, if she still breathed.

“Podrick, of House Payne. Kneel.”

Podrick hesitated a moment, but did as he was told. Jaime placed the flat of the sword on the boy’s right shoulder. 

“In the name of the Warrior I charge you to be brave,” he started, knowing that most of anything he might face in the future would pale in comparison of what he’d just survived.

Switching the blade to the other shoulder, he continued. “In the name of the Father I charge you to be just.” She would have taught him all he needed to know about justice. 

The other shoulder. “In the name of the - “ His voice threatened to crack, but he took a breath and went on. “In the name of the Mother I charge you to defend the young and the innocent.”

Switch. “In the name of the Maiden I - ah, damn this.” Tears flowed on both of their faces, and he would not have remembered the words anyway. “Podrick Payne, do you swear before the gods, old and new, to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all women and children, to obey your captains and liege lords and king, if they are not insane or cruel, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?”

He had paraphrased, they both knew, but the lad understood. He would not be subjected to the same stifling rules he had.

“I do,” he answered, and Jaime lifted the sword. 

“Then you may rise, Ser Podrick of House Payne, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” Or however many remained now. The boy looked like he was ready to embrace him, but Jaime had no comfort to give. He simply nodded, dropped the sword back where it belonged, and stumbled slowly towards the remnants of their camp. 

Perhaps he could find a cot to lie down and wait for his injuries to finish him. Slowly and agonizingly, perhaps, but he could not bring himself to hasten the deed. She would have thought him craven for it, and if he had any chance at seeing her and not ending up in one of the seven hells, dying by his own hand would not better his chances.

He finally did find a place to rest, after stumbling through the camp as he fumbled to untie his golden hand from his wrist. The weight of it was just too much to bear. He was especially grateful for the thought that he would not have to rise again. In life or otherwise. He knew he had broken ribs, and searing cuts on most of his body. How he had survived, he could not fathom. But it was a cruel jape to ask of him to live in this world now.

Though the sun now attempted to rise through the thick smoke, the light of his life had gone. He saw her eyes again, knew the exact moment she had died. The freckles obscured by the blood, and scars opened anew...

He allowed himself to cry, wailing like a child for the strong, comforting arms he knew would never come. This war had cost him everything, and in the end he would have been happy to just have had her remain.  _ I should have died to protect her _ , he kept thinking, which her voice inevitably countered in his mind.  _ I have done my duty. _

Yet it remained that she had been the most deserving of them both. And somehow he was the one who lived.

Exhaustion took him to uneasy, jumbled dreams, of icy gazes bleeding into fire, of screams defying nature and of orphan limbs animated by evil. There were some respites, sometimes tranquil, sometimes worried blue eyes that beckoned him to the other side. He wanted to soothe them, tell her he would join her soon, tell her the boy had been knighted like she would have wanted.

Eventually he was roused by arms lifting him, setting his body in fiery pain again, and he tried to protest, but no one seemed to listen. He drifted into nightmares again, now fueled by fever, and only awoke again in what seemed to be days later.

He had been laid in a tent, wounds bandaged. All of it hurt like hell, but he was more pissed at having been helped at all.

“You are finally with us again, Lion.”

The voice came from a shadow on the other side of the fire that burned bright in its receptacle. Jaime was in no mind for games, and he sighed, closing his eyes. “I would rather not have been at all,” he replied, annoyed.

“That is not what the gods want,” the voice answered, almost as if it was chiding a child. 

“Fuck the gods.” This angered him more than it should. He just wanted to  _ rest. _ “They sealed their fate when they took the best of us. They can rot for all I care. I only ask that they let  _ me  _ do exactly that.”

There was a pause, and he felt the silence  _ smile _ . 

“I have seen what lies ahead for you,” the voice continued, “and you can be reunited with her.”

Despite himself, a sliver of hope made its way into his heart. “We will be reunited in death. She will not rise again,” he said, half a warning, half a wish.

“What if I knew of a way by which you would be reunited in life?”

“I will not  _ allow _ you to have her  _ rise again _ !” Jaime sat up, his anger blinding him to the pain. He knew the Red Priestess’s magic could somehow reanimate a corpse, and he would fight another army of undead before he let that happen. “She deserves her rest! If you try to defile her - “

“I could not if I wanted,” the voice answered softly. “As she is now, she is beyond my help.”

The image of her came to his mind, nauseating, and he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach on the ground by his cot. 

“Then what is it that you propose doing?” Jaime asked with a sneer as he wiped bile from his lips.

The red woman rose from behind the fire. The ruby at her throat still shone brightly. “She will be reborn in many more lifetimes. I can take you to her.”

****

The travel took several weeks, partly due to Jaime’s state, and that of the world. While they had fought the main battle near Winterfell, the Night King’s magic had permeated through the continent, and freshly deceased people had risen again at least as far as the Twins, they had heard. The havoc they’d caused would take time to heal.

They embarked on a ship at Seaguard, though they had a difficult time convincing anyone to go out at sea. Most sailors were anxious at what might still lurk underwater. It would take a long time for the world to be once again without fear of the dead.

“And I won’t just... rot there for decades.”

Melisandre smiled again, as she did every time he asked the question. “You will not. R’hllor’s magic will protect you. Besides,” she eventually added, on their second day sailing, “was that not precisely what you wanted to ask of the gods?”

“If I’m to meet with Brienne again in life, she might be a little less enthusiastic if her husband is a corpse,” he replied with annoyance. The wind was biting as his face, but it was still the least painful part of his body.

The woman watched him oddly then. “You have wed?”

Shifting uncomfortably, he avoided her gaze. “At the weirwood in Winterfell,” he explained. “On the eve of the battle.”

Her smile was kind when he looked at her again. “You both lived by the chivalric code of the new gods, who brought you together. You married in front of the old gods. And you will be reunited through R’hllor. Truly you are both blessed by all the faiths.”

“I don’t know what the Drowned God would have to say of that,” Jaime replied with a sneer. He disliked the idea of his fate being decided by anyone else than himself, these days. 

“He will have his place, as well.” Melisandre watched the horizon for a moment before returning to her cabin.

He was glad they would be done soon. Only a few days more to reach Casterly Rock, and...

She had told him that she could have him sleep, frozen in time, until Brienne found him again in one of her lifetimes. Only she would be able to wake him, and nothing could harm him until she did. 

He had proposed to simply die and join her in one of those lives, as a new man. 

“Do you believe that you would have loved her as much as you did if you had met her in an untroubled life?” the priestess had asked. He didn’t have an answer, but he suspected she might be right. The trials they had endured together had perhaps forged something he could hardly imagine would have blossomed otherwise. He would have been too much of an imbecile to give her much thought.

Melisandre had also explained that not all those who died were reborn. “Those who lived or died by magic, carry some of it with them, and have their soul cycle until they’ve exhausted it. Though you wielded an enchanted sword to fend for your life, I would not be able to promise that you would be reborn times enough to meet her again.”

“What of her? How many more lifetimes will she have?”

“She carried her blade in more ways than one,” the woman had answered cryptically. “And for far longer than you did yours. The way she died - “

“I know how she died,” he cut angrily, trying to keep those images at bay, at least when he was awake.

Melisandre had nodded. “Then you understand how magic is tied to her.”

He had contemplated it the same way he did so now, watching the waves crash against the side of the ship. “Is she suffering?”

“No.” Such relief at a simple word. “Unless specifically cursed, magic tied to a soul is neutral and balanced. She will simply be reborn in many other places, at many other times, no worse and no better than she was in this life.”

That was a bitter thought. He knew how the world had not been kind to her. She was strong enough to weather it, he knew, but he didn’t wish for her to relive it again and again. 

On their twenty-fifth day of travel, the Rock could be seen at the horizon. Melisandre had suggested his childhood home as a secure place to have him sleep in the decades to come. The crypts would be sealed, as no one was expected to take up the Lannister mantle after him.

He thought of Tyrion, to whom he had bid farewell before embarking on the journey south. While he had not told him his exact plan, Jaime had made clear that they were parting for good this time. His brother has tried dissuading him, of course, but he could not have missed the pain he was carrying. Pod - Ser Podrick - had told him of Brienne’s fate, as much as the lad knew of it. 

And Tyrion had let him go. He had been on the eve of leaving himself, with his Dragon Queen, to reclaim King’s Landing from their sister. Cersei had chosen her fate long ago, and had proven time and time again that he would only be an accessory in it. No more.

The physical wounds had almost properly healed by the time he descended into the crypts with Melisandre, heart pounding. She assured him they would finish mending on their own while he slept, and that he would find no trace of them when he woke.

Laying furs on the tomb of one of his ancestors, he briefly considered the sacrilege it might represent to have him rest over them,  _ alive. _ But it was far less of a concern than the success of their plan.

“What happens if you die?” he asked the woman, his resolve wavering. “Won’t the magic die with you?”

“This is R’hllor’s magic, not mine. He cannot die, and neither can you, until you are reunited with Brienne.” She patiently waited for him to lie down, and approached him after he did so.

He watched shadows flicker on the ceiling of the crypt from the torch she carried. “Will I dream?”

“I can make it so you do not,” she offered softly, and he understood she was already weaving the spell. 

“Please.” He had seen Brienne die a thousand times now. That did not need to continue on for decades.

“As you wish.” The damp room started to feel warmer, a lulling heat that seemed to soothe him. “Think of her,” she ordered, and he almost panicked. Did the success of the spell depend on his part?

Her eyes came to mind, and for a moment he thought they would be the dead ones he had come to fear. But the blue of them was warm, innocent, appeasing. He remembered the waters around Tarth, her full mouth, the few timid smiles she had ever graced him with. Her light - 

“Close your eyes.”

He did so. 

And then he felt a mouth over his own, and he gasped, sitting up to see Brienne, both of them wet in the sand.

He stared in astonishment, and her back at him. She was - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is what I'm ready to share for now. Comments? Criticism? Violent screams?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne goes into problem-solving mode, even if she's weirded out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can have another chapter, as a treat

Brienne blinked at the man. His cheeks were scarred, not that it deterred from the frankly astonishing beauty of his traits. Straight, pleasant lines framed his face, and his dark green eyes were wide in disbelief.

“ - alive. You’re... you’re alive.” Tears rolled down to his golden beard. Or maybe it was just seawater dripping down. “You’re alive,” he breathed again.

_ You’re  _ alive, she might have answered, had she not still been speechless. How did this stranger know her name?

For a short second, the ridiculous thought that he might actually have her brother’s soul  _ somehow  _ given back by the sea crossed her mind, but that was foolish.

There were so many questions on her lips.  _ Who the hell are you _ was definitely one of them. “Are you okay?” she asked instead, scrambling back to stand. He had seemed on the verge of reaching out for her, so perhaps it was safer to step back.

He looked up at her, confused, then down at himself. “Why - “ His head swivelled around, noticing their surroundings. She saw him take in the sight of the castle, still resting on its rock at the top of the cliff, and for a moment she wondered if he had trespassed and jumped off into the sea purposefully.

When he turned back to her, the shock in his eyes, and the hint of fear, even, convinced her that he had not probably not done this willingly. He seemed to take in her appearance now, with an impunity that made her blush. At least her soaked black leggings wouldn’t be see-through, though her red shirt probably let show how cold she was. 

Self-conscious, she crossed her arms over her chest. Finding nothing else to say, she made her way to retrieve her jacket, cellphone and shoes in the sand a few meters away. She could still feel his gaze on her, and she focused on unlocking her phone to call for emergency services as she struggled to put her windbreaker back on with one hand.

“What happened?”

His voice was somehow smooth after spending an extended time in the water.  _ Perhaps this is a trap _ , her mind suggested, and she froze. There was little sense in attacking her, even considering her position with Rowan. The only thing she had taken along that could be compromising to him was his cellphone number. She had even left her keycard at the hotel reception just to make sure she would not lose it. 

And if that asshole thought he could beat her into revealing anything, he had another thing coming. 

He hadn’t moved, however, still sitting in the sand, staring at her bewildered.

“I don’t know,” she finally replied. “I just fished you out of the water.”

“Wat- why was I in the water? I was - “ Once again he turned to the castle in confusion. So he  _ had _ trespassed. 

She took the opportunity of his distraction to examine him from where she stood. His mid-calf, worn leather boots had somehow not come loose in the water. The thick fabric of his black shirt stuck to his skin, and his equally black trousers did as well. Brienne looked away, a hot flush spreading up her neck.

Busying herself with her phone, she finally dialled emergency services. As she did, the man stood carefully, oddly balanced considering the situation, and she kept a suspicious eye on him as she waited for an operator to answer. For the first time, she noticed how his right arm did not end in anything, and she worryingly looked to see if there was any trace of blood in the sand, but no. If it had been a recent wound, he would have lost a lot of it in the water, and not been able to walk around as well as he did.

“She said lifetimes,” Brienne heard him say softly to himself, and he looked at her again. Somehow that seemed to calm him.  _ So weird. _

“Emergency services,” a male voice answered at the end of the line. “I have you in Casterly?”

“Yes! Hi,” she replied nervously. “I don’t quite know if this is an emergency, actually,” she started in an apologetic tone. The man, after all, seemed entirely fine. “I just pulled someone out of - “ She gave him a quick glance, discovering him frowning in worry. “ - out of the water on the southern beach near the Rock. He wasn’t breathing when I did but he seems really okay right now,” she continued, turning away unconsciously to avoid the rescued man’s eyes. “I thought I’d report it, just in case.”

“Better safe than sorry,” the operator agreed. “Can you describe more specifically where on the beach?”

“Not far from the limit the city imposed after the rockslide,” she explained. There was movement at the edge of her line of sight and she moved to catch sight of the man walking back towards the sea. “HEY - “

He simply raised a hand as if to appease her. “It’s fine,” he said almost casually, distracted as he squinted at the cliff at the edge of the castle ruins. He seemed to speak to himself again, worrying her, but her attention was brought back to the operator, still calling out to her on the phone. 

“It’s okay,” she explained, “he was just walking back to the water, but he stopped.”

“Alright. I’ll dispatch police officers and an ambulance to your location.”

The man made his way back towards her, and she tensed as he approached.

“What year is this?”

_ Uh oh. _ That question did not bode well.. “718?” Her reply seemed to knock the breath out of him. 

“ _ Four centuries, _ ” he exhaled. “It wasn’t supposed to be that long! What did that  _ witch _ do?!”

Suddenly, the prospect of police officers showing up did not seem like such a good idea. If he was mentally ill and displayed any sort of aggressiveness, especially considering how tall and large he was, things might escalate quickly.

On the other hand, if his confusion stemmed from a head injury, getting to a hospital in good time might be crucial.

“Actually,” she said as the dispatcher tried to get a confirmation from her, “let me just check something.” Placing the phone in the loose pocket of her jacket without hanging up, she warily approached the man. “Does your head hurt?”

He seemed confused for a moment, squinting at her, then understanding seemed to dawn on him. “No, it doesn’t. I know it sounds crazy - “

“Let me see.” She moved carefully, hyper aware of his reaction. He simply sighed and turned to give her better access to the back of his head.

She felt through his hair for any sort of lump, an oddly intimate touch on a complete stranger. There was nothing that even remotely felt like scabs, and while it was still wet, her hands were clean of any sort of blood when she checked. 

As she wiped her hands on her equally-wet leggings, she wondered how wise it had been to go look for an open wound bare-handed.

Fishing back for her phone, she lifted it back up to her ear as the man turned back to her, the closest he had been since she’d attempted resuscitation. His green eyes stopped her for a moment, pleading with a sincerity that was almost disarming.

“He’s not hurt,” she finally told the dispatcher. “How far is the hospital from here?”

“Just a few blocks from where you are, but I would really advise - “

“We’ll take a cab. Or something,” she added, realizing that a taxi driver might not take kindly to two soaking-wet passengers.

“Miss, really, help is on the way - “

“We’re fine. Thank you,” she concluded before disconnecting the line. Clearly her newfound charge did not understand a single thing that was happening, but he seemed to trust her as he observed her searching for directions to the hospital online.

“Okay, first, we’ll get you checked out,” she announced, locating the way back towards the streets. “Then we’ll find where you’re supposed to be.”

“I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” he started. “This is going to sound insane, and I’m sorry to have to ask you to believe me, but - “

“What’s your name?” she cut.  _ Let’s take small steps for now _ , she thought as she headed towards the clearing. 

The answer came after a pause, but from the sound of it, he was following her. “Jaime. Jaime Lannister. I need you to - “

“Well, Jaime, I’m Brienne Grey. We need to get going now, come on.”

She had inadvertently taken an infantilizing tone, which would not likely help him comply. Mentally chiding herself, she turned back to him, and saw that he had stopped walking.  _ Great. _

“I’m sorry - “

“Brienne  _ Grey _ ?”

It would make more sense if he had confounded her with someone else, though what were the chances of another Brienne looking so similar to her? Perhaps the name was cursed.

“Yes?”

“Oh.” He had a slight frown, as if he was starting to doubt his own convictions. “It’s just... I thought it would be Tarth.”

“Like the island...? Why? I’ve never even been to the Stormlands.” Not that he needed to know that.

“Right,” he finally said softly. “You were... never mind.” He looked oddly sad, but he made his way to her. “I need to explain - “

“ _ I _ need warmth, I’m freezing. And you will too, if that’s not somehow already the case. We better get moving before we get sick,” she announced, turning to continue her way to the street. She heard a soft sigh, but he complied, joining her on the sidewalk.

There seemed to be a genuine shock on his face as he took in the sight before him. His vaguely time-traveling act was on point, at least. Still, he didn’t comment, and gingerly followed her the few blocks it took to reach the hospital.

By then he definitely had a slight frown, the sort one gets from a headache. For the first time, she considered hallucinogenic drugs, or something stronger. If there was withdrawal involved, things could get ugly quite fast.

She signed them in as best as she could. “I’d rather not say,” he answered when prompted for a date of birth, and simply shrugged when asked for an address. When she told the clerk he might be homeless, she heard him mumble “that’s an understatement” from behind her.

They were sent to the waiting room, provided blankets and hot tea to warm themselves up. Somehow Brienne had felt the need to insist their case wasn’t urgent, and as she sat in the half-filled room, she hoped it wouldn’t be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime starts to experience the modern world and it's not exactly pleasant.

The oddly even lights of the room in which they waited were clearly not helping Jaime’s steadily increasing headache. At some point, he wondered if he might not actually have hit his head and be now imagining all this. But no: he could not make up the things he was seeing, even if he tried. 

He had been bewildered by everything he had encountered since he had opened his eyes on the beach. Brienne’s clothing, the device she had been speaking into, the  _ horseless _ carriages and how fast they were going, glass buildings... There was little time and energy to think on it all much then, and now that he was going to be idle for a while, he still couldn’t make sense of it. 

_ Four centuries _ . How had things changed so much? How was he going to fare in this world, not even knowing what material the chair he sat on was made of?

Convincing Brienne that he was sane was going to be another significant challenge. There was nothing he could think to do or say that would assert the truth, not that he felt he could think quite clearly through the pain. Hopefully an opportunity would present itself, but if not...

Looking back, the sleeping-through-ages plan had been deeply flawed. Firstly, resting in  _ crypts _ could hardly have made a reunion likely to ever happen. The rock slide had been godsend. So had been his washing ashore as Brienne passed by.

_ The Drowned God would have his place, _ Melisandre had predicted. Jaime wondered if she had known how long he would be asleep before finding Brienne. And how she could have prepared him better for it.

His surroundings already seemed less strange, though he was still on his guard. That tension did nothing to ease the slowly mounting pain behind his brow, and he closed his eyes, rubbing his forehead as he tried to relax.

The memory of Brienne feeling around his hair for a wound came to mind. He had not been prepared for her touch, especially not so intimate. It had sent his heart racing,  _ yearning _ , reminding him of how they’d shyly kissed beneath the weirwood, and after. She had been worried and afraid then, but not quite of him. On the beach, the wariness in her movements and in her eyes had clearly been caused by his presence.

He couldn’t blame her. He was a complete stranger she had just carried out of the water, attempting to tell her a story that would have been nonsense to anyone. The fact that she was trying to take care of him, to ensure his safety, only convinced him further that it was really her.  _ Protect the weak and the innocent.  _ He was neither, in reality, but she was giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He had been compliant and had been sitting quietly across from her, but the uneasiness of their strange surroundings and of his discomfort made him speak up.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?” It felt like it had nearly been an hour, then again four centuries had passed him by in the literal blink of an eye.

She had tensed almost imperceptibly at his words. “A nurse, or a doctor,” she answered quickly, before realizing with his confused expression that it told him nothing. “Someone to make sure you’re not hurt.”

_ Good thing I’m not, I might have been dead already.  _ “And how long might that be?”

“No idea,” she said flatly. “We’re not a very high priority, since you’re not wounded nor... delirious.” She had slightly hesitated on the last word, and he thought this was as good an opportunity as any to explain his presence in her life.

“You think me crazy,” he stated, and she uncomfortably shifted in her chair, sitting straighter.

“I didn’t say that,” Brienne objected.

“You don’t have to. I’ve had half a lifetime to know what people think of me despite never saying it to my face.” Not so long ago, there would have been bitterness in his voice. “And if our places were reversed, I would likely think the same,” he added softly, but she still seemed defensive. “Will you let me tell you the whole story?”

As he said it, he realized it would be a bit long and complex to tell in its entirety, and while she frowned, he wondered where he should start.

“Fine,” she finally sighed. “Go ahead.”

Eventually he started where they had met, briefly telling of the war that had had the land in turmoil even before the Dead took part in it. How they had journeyed together and apart, and grown from hostility to, unbelievably, love. How they had sworn themselves to one another on their last night. He glossed over the painful description of her death, and explained how the Red Priestess had him sleep until that morning, when he’d been awakened by her lips.

Her disbelief was clear the entire time he spoke, though she didn’t interject through the story.

“So it’s some kind of a Sleeping Beauty tale,” she finally responded, seemingly amused.

“I would... not know,” he hesitated. That wasn’t one he was familiar with.

She shook her head: the comparison wasn’t important. “So there were walking corpses trying to kill everyone, and magic that brought...  _ us _ back together,” she summed up, and he nodded awkwardly, knowing how that sounded. “Right. And now what?”

The whole time he had travelled with Melisandre, and then to this uncomfortable room, Jaime had not given much thought about what he expected to happen. In his mind, there had been the continuity of their relationship, its blossoming. But they were strangers now, in an odd world, and he was insane in her eyes.

“If you can give me some time - “ he started pleadingly, but their names were called. A slender, dark-skinned man in light green clothing beckoned them to another room. Jaime followed Brienne, but his mind was still on her question: now what?

***

The  _ nurse _ looked them both over in a room full of odd-looking instruments, taking particular interest in his right wrist.

“What happened there?”

“Idiots hacked it off for fun.”

Jaime didn’t miss the side glance the man cast towards Brienne. 

“It’s not a recent injury, clearly,” he continued, annoyed. “Is it okay if we leave now?”

The prodding and the instrument inserted in his mouth - “To take your temperature,” it’d been explained - had only left him more overwhelmed than the lights and strange sounds and weird smells and that  _ wretched _ headache had, and he was eager to get back to some fresh air.

Brienne looked to him a bit warily before speaking up. “Can you wait for me in the other room? I’ll just be a minute.”

Why she didn’t dare voice her concerns about his mental health, he couldn’t fathom. Sighing, he stood and returned to the uncomfortable chair he had occupied only a few minutes earlier, only to find a dozing man now sitting in it. He took another seat positioned just so that he saw Brienne speaking to the nurse. 

She looked worried as she shook her head, and for a moment he grew concerned that there might be people coming to seize him. Did she think him a threat? Did the man? Now that they were confirmed not to have been harmed, what would she do?

He saw her look at him a few times during her conversation, probably making sure he hadn’t moved. After a few minutes, she clearly thanked the man, and walked over to him.

“So,” she announced, clearly not relishing the coming discussion. “I have to get back to my hotel to get a change of clothes, and I’ll try to find some for you as well. It will be easier for me to do this if you stay here.”

The look on Jaime’s face probably told much of his worries.

“You’re safe here, as long as you don’t stir any trouble. I should be back in two hours, max,” she continued, and although there was nothing in her expression that suggested she might have been lying, he was still anxious. He couldn’t lose her like that.

“You  _ will _ return?”

She looked at him oddly. “I will. I promise.”

That would be good enough. With a deep breath, he nodded. The thought of spending more time in this place, especially without someone familiar, wasn’t exactly thrilling. He felt exposed, and the pain in his skull only added to the vulnerability. She seemed to notice.

“Your head, right? I can ask for some acetaminophen from the nurse, it’ll help.” Jaime shrugged. It made little sense to him, so he’d have to trust her judgement. 

She briefly left and returned with what looked like two small, white marbles, and a thin goblet filled with water. “Swallow one with water, and then - “ She looked around for something, then pointed to a dark board with lights on it. “When that has the numbers ‘9-4-0’, if you feel okay, take the other one. It’ll have been half an hour, so by then if you were to have an allergic reaction, it would show.”

Jaime took the first with a mouthful of water, only then realizing how thirsty he was. “And what would that reaction feel like?”

“Trouble breathing, swelling in your face,” she explained almost casually. He narrowly refrained from asking if it was poison. “If anything like that starts happening, tell someone immediately, they will help you.”

He nodded, but she was already looking for something else. She removed a small card from the pocket of the thin coat she had been carrying, and headed to a nearby illuminated box with a glass display. A few manipulations later, she returned with a clear bottle and a few other items. She carefully opened a rustlely bag, then unwrapped something that looked like cake.

“I don’t know how long it’s been since you’ve eaten, but this should be good enough until I come back.” The food was oddly coloured, and smelled as strange. “Again, if you have trouble breathing after eating any of this, tell someone.”

She then took a deep breath. “Okay. Don’t leave until I come back, alright?”

“Two hours?”

“Two hours.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit more that needs reworking, but I should have another chapter up by the end of the week!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reality of things sometimes just suck.

Brienne was perfectly on time when she returned to Jaime.

She had first taken a taxi back to the hotel, where she had showered and changed, wondering the whole time what in the Seven Hells she was doing. Still, she couldn’t  _ not _ do it - she understood that while there were people better positioned to handle Jaime, his...  _ attachment _ to her made her the safest choice for now. And she wasn’t one to back out when she was needed.

She only briefly entertained the idea of getting him to stay at the hotel, to keep an eye on him. But the very reason for her presence in the city - a large environmental conference - had the hotel fully booked. Having him sleep in her room was also unconscionable: she would have been breaking rules for having an ID-less guest along, and that would have jeopardized her employment.

Instead, she had made a few calls to confirm availability at nearby motels. Somehow there were still a few rooms available, so she would have him settle there for a couple of days.

“So you two don’t know each other?” the nurse had asked at the end of the exam.

“He says he does, from some four centuries ago, but I’m pretty certain I would remember someone looking like that,” she had sighed. The nurse had had a knowing nod. “Is there any way to enquire if he’s missing from somewhere? I’m only here for a few days,” she pleaded, and the man had agreed to send out requests to the local and regional police departments.

In the meantime, she would put Jaime up in a room so he would be safe from the elements and from trouble - provided he agreed to stay there.

That was probably more than a normal, sane person would do in her position, and she couldn’t help but shake her head at herself and her stubbornness.

He was patiently waiting exactly where she had left him, eyes closed and head tilted back slightly. She would have thought him asleep without the frown, and he opened his eyes shortly after she came into sight.

_ Did he sense me coming or something? _

More like, he felt exposed, and only shut his eyes periodically. From the looks of it, his headache hadn’t let up.

“Hey,” she greeted him, as if they were perfectly normal acquaintances. “Any improvement?”

“It actually got a bit worse, but I don’t think the lights are helping,” he answered with a wince.

Brienne stopped by the administrative desk to leave a message for the nurse, including a cellphone number and the address of the motel where she would stow her new charge.

Jaime followed her quietly, and despite a short hesitation when she showed him into a taxi, he seemed to somehow still trust her completely.

“So,” she started awkwardly. Finding herself enclosed in a small space with someone as bulky as her was rare, and never comfortable. “I found you a place to stay for now, while I work. It’ll be warm and safe until... we can figure out what should be next.”

She saw him nod at the edge of her vision, as she avoided looking at him. He stared out the window himself, observing everything they passed by.

“I don’t suppose you’ve suddenly found my story believable, while you went on your errands?” The tone of his voice confirmed that he had had little hope that it would. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “I can’t expect you to...” A pause, searching for the right words. “To upend your whole life for a stranger. But... If we can have a bit of time, perhaps what we had will return to you.”

He seemed so sincere, she felt guilty for the bitterness that gripped her. No one had ever declared their love for her, except this gorgeous, in-need-of-a-shower headcase.  _ Perhaps someone is playing a prank on me, again. _

“Well, we’ll see how it goes when we - when you are clean,” she said, a blush crawling up from her chest. She was already clean. He could do that on his own. They were almost at their destination, and she tried to survey their surroundings to spot where they had to go. She didn’t miss the small, oddly fond smile on his lips, as if he recalled some cherished memory.

The motel clerk did not care for an ID and happily took the cash offered. Hopefully the three days she paid for would be enough to find someone else to take charge. Beyond that...

The room was bare and smelled musty, but it was fortunately the  _ only _ scent. She led Jaime to the cramped bathroom, explaining the use of the toilet and shower through her blush. He thankfully didn’t comment on it, nodding at the instructions. Hopefully he wasn’t just pretending to understand them. 

She had stopped at the nearby general store after her visit at the second-hand shop, picking up clean underwear, food, and travel-size soap bottles, and deodorant, most of which she left with him. The man wasn’t exactly rank, but he definitely needed a wash. On a whim, she had also bought a tattered history book from the previous decade or so, along with the clothes. If anything that would be some entertainment while she was away.

When he finally reappeared - she had listened for the sound of the water being shut off - his handsomeness was just more intimidating than it had been. His blond hair still framed his gorgeous face perfectly, but the layer of grime on his skin was gone, making him just... glow brighter. 

Brienne busied herself with the food she had brought, ready-made sandwiches and drinks, pre-cut veggies and some cheese. There was more than would be enough for a meal for a single person, but if his shape was any indication, he probably ate as much as she did, and all of this would be necessary.

He sat down slowly in the chair opposite hers at the table. She could tell the headache was still needling him, and it looked as if it was wearing him down. He looked oddly at the blue sports drink she pushed towards him, uncapped. 

“It’s possible the headache is because you’re dehydrated,” she explained. “This’ll help.” She watched him take a careful sip, then the disgust on his face.

“What the hell is that?”

Smiling despite herself, she shrugged. “A shortcut, mostly. They’re not always pleasant. Here,” she offered, handing him an unpackaged sandwich next. “You must be hungry after four hundred years.”

He took a bite, but seemed less than impressed. “Not particularly, actually.” Setting it down, he looked at her in the eyes, and she cursed the heat rising from her chest to her face. “So. What is your vision of this?”

He had been so... realistic about the situation, seemed so aware of the position she was in, it was unthinkable not to speak honestly.

“The work I do,” she started after a moment to consider her response, “entails the safety of other people. In this world, now,” she corrected, “someone like you will be seen as a risk, even if just as an unknown.”

Jaime nodded sadly, and she felt all the more guilty for it.

“If I lived here, it might be different,” she offered. “But I’m only here for a few days more, and then we’ll fly back to King’s Landing - “

“Fly?”

She had an awkward smile. “Yeah, we... have machines that fly now. Taking people around the world,” she explained, and the confusion on his face was heartbreaking. “The point is, the security to get on those machines is very tight, and I wouldn’t be able - “

“I understand,” he cut. It seemed that he did, but that didn’t make it any less painful - for either of them.

They stayed in awkward silence for a while, Jaime picking apart his sandwich and Brienne at her short-cut nails.

“I wish I could help more - “ she tried, but he shook his head. 

“You’ve done a lot more than was required,” he smiled sadly. “Thank you.”

She had a small, miserable nod. There was no other option, really, not realistically. 

A few moments passed before she spoke again. “This room is paid for for three nights at least, so you’ll have somewhere to stay until then, and after, I’ll - I’ll find information on shelters - “

“I’ll manage, Brienne,” he interjected, her name sounding so odd on his lips, and yet... “I’ve been in worse situations, and I’ve survived them all.” The tiredness in his voice was clear, and it was likely he needed some time.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you rest. Hopefully your headache will subside,” she announced, standing up awkwardly. “I’ll bring back more food later, too. I promise,” she added, remembering how similar words had seemed to comfort him earlier. He barely nodded. “Okay.”

She turned away, the impression that she was making the wrong decision still gut-wrenching. When she looked back at him, he was rubbing his forehead with his left hand.

“Jaime?” He looked up, and she saw sorrow in his green eyes. “I know this isn’t the answer you were hoping for,” she said, and he opened his mouth to protest again. “But please,” she continued, “can you at least stay here for now? Just so I know that you’re safe?”

He blinked a few times, but bowed his head slightly. “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What would YOU do, in her position? Realistically?


	6. Not a chapter, but a notice

Hello dearly beloved!

I hope you and yours are all well and healthy, and send my best wishes if not!

I have realized earlier this week that there is a remarkable number of people subscribed to this fic. I am a bit surprised to be honest, but very flattered!

Clearly I haven’t updated this in quite a while, but I haven’t abandoned it yet. I’m one of the very lucky few to whom confinement has done good, but writing wasn’t in the cards exactly. I’m hoping to change that in 2021. 

I am not certain that the “publish as you write” model is very good for me, so it might be that I will finish writing the story before posting more of it. I hope to give you a better quality “product” in doing so.

Please do forgive me for leaving you hanging. Have a footstool to rest and a hot cup of tea / coffee / hot chocolate.

~Laury 


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